A Bewitched Shrub
by TheSadTruthIs-TheTruthIsSad
Summary: "Malfoy," Harry greeted warily, after the silence had dragged on for an uncomfortable amount of time. "Potter," Malfoy replied, looking thoroughly irritated about something. "Your plant is still singing." -:- Harry is being followed around by an enchanted, singing mistletoe. Happy holidays, a few months early. Reviews are very much appreciated.
1. Part One

**A Bewitched Shrub**

-:-

"...and then he swerved, right? He missed the Quaffle by _inches_ – the Cannons only lost the bloody match by ten points. _Ten points_, Harry! If only he'd caught it, they would have had a chance. The Cannons have had the worst luck ever since, finishing bottom of the league every year, and for the love of _Merlin_, can't you shut that bloody thing up?"

"I'm trying," Harry said exasperatedly, struggling to close his bag around the small green thing that was now wailing loudly, trying to be heard over the chatter of the Great Hall during lunchtime.

"Well, couldn't you just leave it upstairs in your trunk?" Ron asked, watching with some amusement as Harry nearly zipped his finger in his bag, still fighting against the plant.

"I've tried," Harry growled. "It just keeps wailing and following me around somehow." After a moment, however, he pulled the zip shut, then held up his arms in triumph.

_"Have a holly jolly Christmas..."_ the mistletoe screeched, still clearly audible from inside Harry's bag. Harry lowered his arms to place his head in his hands. The mistletoe continued to shriek off-key holiday tunes at him as he gave a low growl of annoyance. Ron, however, looking thoroughly entertained, sniggered loudly. Without looking, Harry threw a buttered roll at him. It missed by an inch, smacking into a small first year girl, who, upon seeing Ron now shamelessly roaring with laughter, began to sniff loudly, clearly on the verge of tears.

"No!" Harry called as she stood up and began to walk away, "I didn't mean to –"

_"_–_kiss her once for me!"_ the mistletoe wailed, louder than ever, effectively drowning out Harry's attempted apologies as the girl left the Great Hall as quickly as possible, wiping her tears away as she went.

Harry turned to glare at Ron, who was, like the girl, wiping away tears from his eyes. Harry shoved him, perhaps a little harder than necessary.

"Come on," he sighed resignedly, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "We've got to get to class."

-:-

"Harry, have you tried Silencing charms?" asked Hermione irritably, crossing out another line on her Transfiguration homework and glaring at the spot above Harry's head where the mistletoe hung lazily.

"Of course I have," Harry replied defensively. "That was the first thing I tried." Despite his answer, Hermione pointed her wand at the plant, a determined look on her face.

"_Silencio_!" she said firmly. The mistletoe was quiet for a split-second before –

_"I'll be home for Christmas,"_ the mistletoe crooned mournfully. It had, as if out of defiance, become even louder.

"Why is the blasted thing even following you around?" Ron asked. He had, thankfully, stopped laughing. Harry was pleased to see the annoyed expression on his best friend's face – it had, after all, not been funny after the first ten minutes.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione snapped, her bad mood growing worse. She crumpled up the parchment she had been writing on and threw it into the fire. "It's all thanks to _your_ brothers. It's their Enchanted Mistletoe; they no doubt think it's funny to have a distraction in the middle of all of our classes."

"When will it wear off?" Harry demanded, groaning as the mistletoe sang the first few notes of _Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow_.

Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea," she said, standing and gathering her things. Harry figured she was going to the girls' dormitory, where she would be able to do her homework in peace.

"Great," said Harry angrily. "Just great. I'm going to bed."

When he entered the dormitory, however, irritated voices met his ears. "_Harry_," Dean complained, at the same time as Seamus threw a pillow at Harry's head and shouted, "Oi, Potter! We're trying to sleep here!"

Harry stormed back down the stairs to the sound of _Jingle Bells_ being shouted into his ears. "Clear off," he snarled at two third years on the couch. Their eyes widened in alarm and they scurried away to sit on the opposite side of the common room. Harry fell face-first onto the couch and, trying desperately to ignore the singing, fell asleep.

-:-

By the next day, Harry's eye had begun to twitch. Most of the Gryffindors recognized this as a warning sign and they stayed a good distance from him at all times. The Slytherins, however, seemed to think the charmed plant was absolutely hilarious, as well as the effect it was having on Harry. They guffawed and giggled all through Care of Magical Creatures, and they made rude jokes during Defense Against the Dark Arts. The only Slytherin who didn't seem to be enjoying himself was Draco Malfoy – on the contrary, he looked just as annoyed by the holiday songs as Harry felt.

By the time the afternoon break finally rolled around, Harry was incredibly grateful to get away from the Slytherins. Ron, however, dampened his spirits by reminding him that they still had Potions in an hour and they would have to see the Slytherins again. Harry began feeling anxious for a different reason now.

"Snape's going to kill me," he moaned, dropping his head into his hands again.

_"Do you hear what I hear__‽__"_ the mistletoe bellowed.

"I doubt he'd do something as drastic as -"

"Really, Ron?" Harry said skeptically. "You think Snape's going to be _happy_ about a singing plant interrupting his lesson, do you?"

"Good point," said Ron, looking perfectly cheerful. "You're right; he's going to murder you."

-:-

Feeling quite annoyed by all the stares and jeering, Harry headed for Potions class a few moments early, determined to find an empty corridor and stay there for as long as he possibly could. He found one and sat himself next to a suit of armour, listening to the echoing cries of _"Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?" _in the empty hall. The noise was so deafening, Harry didn't hear the footsteps until it was too late to hide himself. However, he realized miserably, hiding wouldn't have done any good, anyway. He was quite easy to find, what with the shrieking plant hovering over his head. He stood up, peering around the suit of armour to see who was approaching.

His hand went immediately to his robe pocket, clenching around the handle of his wand, but not drawing it out. The blond boy was coming nearer, clearly heading straight for Harry. Malfoy didn't stop until he was directly in front of him. It was silent for a moment as they looked at each other.

"Malfoy," Harry said warily, after the silence had dragged on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"Potter," Malfoy replied, looking thoroughly irritated about something. "Your plant is still singing."

"I'm well aware," said Harry, unable to prevent the faint note of misery in his voice.

"Right. We've got Potions next," Malfoy said, eyes narrowed, again pointing out the obvious, but not letting Harry reply this time, "and I absolutely _refuse_ to do badly in another class because of a bewitched shrub."

Malfoy stepped forward as he said this, a determined look on his face. Harry's eyes went wide and he knew what Malfoy was going to do a split-second before he did it, but it didn't stop Malfoy from surging forward and pressing his lips firmly against Harry's, just as the mistletoe shrieked, _"'Tis the season –"_

Malfoy pulled back after a moment, corner of his mouth twitched upward in a faint smirk, and he dropped his hand from the back of Harry's neck, making the Gryffindor wonder dimly when he had put it there. "That seems to have done it," he said in a business-like way as the enchanted mistletoe fell to the ground with a feeble, fading cry of _'to be... jolly...'_ and then fell completely silent, unmoving. "See you in Potions then, Potter." He headed back down the corridor without another word, leaving Harry feeling quite dazed.

"I... yeah... thanks?" Harry called weakly, and he could have sworn he heard Malfoy snigger in response.

-:-

Six and a half minutes later, Harry took his seat in Potions class, directly in between Ron and Hermione. It took Ron another full minute to realize something was different.

"Hey!" he said in an excited whisper. "Your mistletoe – it's gone! How did you get rid of it?"

Harry felt his face heat up and he coughed nervously, determinedly _not_ looking over to the other side of the room, where Draco Malfoy sat, looking quite pleased with himself as he conversed with the Slytherins around him. Harry turned instead to look at Hermione, who, he was unnerved to see, had a knowing sort of look on her face.

"I'm sure he had someone get rid of it _for_ him," she said airily, corners of her mouth twitching in her attempts not to smile, "didn't you, Harry?"

In response, Harry simply dropped his head to his desk and absolutely did _not_ think about Draco Malfoy.

Not on _purpose_, anyway.

* * *

**End note: **This is, quite possibly, the most bizarre thing I've ever written. In just a few short hours, it's gotten more views than my other story has in _ months_, and I have to wonder how many people now think I'm absolutely bonkers for writing about an enchanted mistletoe. This is my first Drarry fic and probably won't be my last. If you enjoyed it, or even _didn't_ enjoy it, I would appreciate it if you wrote a little (or big!) review telling me why. It's always nice to know your hard work is appreciated by someone.  
Thanks for reading!


	2. Part Two

**A Bewitched Shrub**

-part two-

-:-

**Author's note**: Well... some of you asked, and I couldn't say no. After all, _thatpottergurl_ asked oh-so-nicely for Draco's point of view, and pointed out that, in the spirit of the holiday season, I should be generous. So, here it is. The companion to the strangest thing I've ever written.

-:-

Draco Malfoy hated many things.

He hated chocolate frogs, because biting into a squirming bit of chocolate made him feel slightly queasy. He hated Hufflepuffs, because they were so sickeningly nice to everyone. He hated the Tutshill Tornados simply because they were awful (certainly not because they beat his favourite Quidditch team, the Falmouth Falcons, nearly every time they played against each other). He hated milk. He hated peas. He hated wool. He hated hippogriffs.

It was usually quite easy to avoid the things he hated; he didn't eat the foods he disliked, he avoided the people he didn't like, he kept the wireless off during winter, and he conveniently didn't check the Quidditch section of the newspaper on days after the Tornados played – and inevitably beat - the Falcons. This policy of avoidance made it much easier to deal with the things he could not tolerate.

He was in a perfectly cheerful mood when he walked into the Great Hall for breakfast one wintry Thursday. It was nice and cold – the way he liked it – and his timetable was promising. It showed a double Transfiguration lesson for the afternoon, and an Arithmancy class. It also featured a morning History of Magic class, but even that didn't get Draco's spirits down. He took his usual place between Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table and poured himself some tea – without milk, of course.

He half listened to Crabbe and Goyle make bets on their double Potions lesson that was to take place the next day – Crabbe bet two Galleons that it would be the day Snape made Longbottom cry. Goyle bet two on Snape taking no less than fifty points from Gryffindor. Draco watched a couple of third-year boys trading chocolate frog cards. He ignored Pansy, who was trying desperately to get his attention.

He was halfway through buttering his toast when the doors of the Great Hall opened and sudden noise poured in. Everyone went silent as Ron Weasley and Harry Potter walked through the doors and towards the Gryffindor table. Weasley was deep in a very animated, one-sided conversation, gesticulating wildly. Potter, on the other hand, looked simply mortified. He was bright red, trying to get over to the table quickly and not attract any more attention – as if it were possible. Every eye in the hall was on him.

There was a rather large sprig of mistletoe, directly above Potter's head, hovering in mid-air, and – to Draco's utter dismay – it was positively _shrieking_. The sudden silence in the Great Hall only served to make the plant seem even louder, its echoing cries filling the hall.

"_May your days be merry and bright!_" it wailed, bellowing the last word loudly and off-key. Potter sank into his seat at the Gryffindor table across from a startled looking Granger and buried his face in his arms as Weasley continued to talk at him. The students in the Great Hall suddenly began talking again, louder than before. Crabbe and Goyle began changing their bets – Crabbe bet Potter would get detention the next day in Potions. Goyle bet Potter would get _murdered_ the next day in Potions. The calm expression that Draco had been wearing all morning morphed more into a scowl by the second as the plant above Potter's half-hidden head continued to howl.

Draco _hated_ holiday music.

-:-

By the time he was seated at his desk in History of Magic, Draco was in a very bad mood indeed. Professor Binns, of course, had not so much as blinked when the magical mistletoe began its unnecessarily mournful rendition of _We Wish You a Merry Christmas_ in the middle of his lesson; in fact, he didn't seem to have noticed the class at all. The time Draco normally would have spent sleeping in class was spent throwing irritated glances over at the Gryffindor side of the room, where Potter was looking in horror as his mistletoe sang song after annoying song and Weasley was shaking with suppressed laughter. His jaw clenched as Pansy began humming along next to him, and his fingers started itching, as though they longed to wrap around her neck.

If he had thought Arithmancy would be any better, he was sorely mistaken. It seemed that, like Pansy, many people in the school were now humming or singing Christmas songs under their breath. Peeves had even taken to making up his own rather rude lyrics to the tunes, bellowing them at the top of his lungs. Unlike the rest of Slytherins, Draco was not even remotely amused by this. By the end of Thursday's lessons, Draco was desperate to get away from the rest of the school. He retreated into the Slytherin common room, hopeful that the dungeons would be his safe haven.

A troublesome scene met his eyes when he entered the common room. A Slytherin seventh year was imitating the enchanted mistletoe, following each Slytherin around in turn, shrieking bits of Christmas songs at them. Draco's housemates roared with laughter at the display. Draco quietly slipped past his classmates, completely unnoticed as he headed for the dormitory, which, thankfully, had a silencing charm around it. He slipped into bed fully dressed, closing his eyes and trying to block out all memories of the awful day.

He dreamt of Potter, who was singing _Jingle Bells_ at the top of his voice.

He _hated_ those Weasley twins.

-:-

On Friday, things were getting out of hand. Care of Magical Creatures was even worse than usual, and for once, this had nothing to do with any of the magical creatures. For the first time, Draco did not join in on terrorizing the miserable looking Potter, whose mistletoe was singing _Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow _for the third time in two days. Hagrid looked rather confused as he tried to give his lesson on billywigs, shooting curious glances at Potter the entire time, as though he wasn't quite sure what was going on. Still, he trudged on, speaking to the three or four students actually listening. An hour later, after Defence Against the Dark Arts, Draco felt quite sure he had just failed the surprise quiz on Shield Charms. The only good thing to be said about the lesson was that some of the amusement over the mistletoe had worn off. The laughter and taunting had subsided slightly, at any rate.

By the time the bell signalling afternoon break had rang, Draco's mind was set – something had to be done about this stupid, singing plant. Ideas zoomed through his head, ranging from killing Potter, to locking him in a broom cupboard, to…

_There's an idea,_ he thought, watching Potter get up from where he had been sitting with Weasley and walk away quickly, carefully avoiding meeting anyone's eye.

Without fully thinking things through, Draco followed him.

The sound of the loud, off-key singing led him to an empty corridor. He walked quickly, determined to do what needed to be done before he lost his nerve. If no one else in the school was logical enough to figure out how to silence the plant – or simply not annoyed enough by it to try– then he would simply have to be the one to do it.

He peered around a suit of armour to find Potter staring anxiously at him, hand in his robe pocket, most likely curled around his wand. They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment, as the mistletoe slowly sang the last verse of _Winter Wonderland_.

"Malfoy," said Potter cautiously, clearly wondering what the other boy was doing in front of him, standing there without speaking.

"Potter," Draco answered, and even his nerves could not outweigh his hatred of the plant's screeching cries.

"_In the meadow, we can build a snowman,_" the mistletoe sang in an annoyingly cheerful tone.

"Your plant is still singing," he continued, through gritted teeth.

"I'm well aware," Potter sighed, looking very much as though he had been diagnosed with some horrible, incurable illness. Draco ignored this. He watched the mistletoe for a moment as it finished its song and started another.

"_Deck the halls with boughs of holly!_"

"Right," he continued, steeling himself for what he was about to do. "We've got Potions next and I absolutely _refuse_ to do badly in another class because of a bewitched shrub." Before Potter could even begin to think of a response, Draco stepped forward and pressed his lips against the other boy's surprisingly soft ones. Potter tensed immediately, but Draco only had one chance to do this – he was certainly going to do it right. His hand went to the back of Potter's neck to keep him firmly in place, though he wasn't attempting to pull away.

Their lips stayed together slightly longer than was necessary. Draco told himself he was simply making absolutely sure it was working. When he could no longer hear the echoing wails, he slowly pulled away from the Gryffindor, taking his hand away from his neck and stepping back to survey the mistletoe.

"That seems to have done it," he said as it dropped to the floor with one last feeble whine. It stayed there, motionless and – _finally_ – quiet.

Potter looked stunned. He swallowed and opened his mouth wordlessly. He looked down at the plant, then back up at Draco, who smirked at him, his good mood rushing back at an almost alarming rate.

"See you in Potions then, Potter," he said cheerfully, and, without another word, walked away.

-:-

Crabbe and Goyle were already sitting in the Potions classroom when Draco entered and took his place between them. They were waiting eagerly for Potter to enter the classroom so Snape could begin docking points and giving detentions. Their faces fell in utter disappointment when the door opened a few moments later and Potter walked in, quietly taking his seat on the Gryffindor side of the room.

"But," said Goyle stupidly, "where did it go?"

"It's a mystery," Draco said seriously, trying not to look too pleased with himself.

Draco shot a furtive glance over at where Potter and his friends sat. Weasley was looking amazed. Granger looked annoyingly knowing. Potter's eye met his for a split second before he went red and buried his face again.

Draco turned his attention to the front of the room, where Snape was calling for silence, and told himself firmly that the comfortable warmth he felt when he recalled what had just happened had nothing whatsoever to do with Potter, merely the satisfaction of a job well done.

And he even almost believed it.

-:-


End file.
